


Keep Your Head Up, Keep Your Love

by destielsdessert



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hugs, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Panic Attacks, Protective Mickey Milkovich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 12:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielsdessert/pseuds/destielsdessert
Summary: The one where Ian has a panic attack and Mickey is the only one who can help.





	Keep Your Head Up, Keep Your Love

Ian knows straight away that it's going to be a bad day. He wakes up with a dull headache, head slowly thumping along with his heartbeat, his hands feel numb already, and there's a slight pain forming in the centre of his chest. Turning over in bed, he groans and wishes he could just stay there. But he can't, because that'll make Mickey worry and there's no need for that; he'll just have to push through it because it's not fair on Mickey.

He pushes himself out of bed and trudges into the living room. This is one of the few mornings where he's woken up after Mickey, so Ian finds him on the couch, watching some action film that Ian really doesn't care for the name of. Mickey must hear his footsteps because he glances up once Ian gets closer.

"Was beginning to think you weren't gonna get up," Mickey says, taking in Ian's small frown and dark eyes.

It's a simple comment, but Ian hears the insecurity behind it, the fear that any morning, Ian might just stay in bed and it'll be like that for days, if not weeks, and Mickey won't be able to do anything. That doesn't help his bad mood.

He tries to push it away though, sitting next to Mickey and trying to focus on the TV. It doesn't take long for him to realise that that isn't going to work; the screen is moving too fast, the movie is too loud and it's making his headache worse.

Mickey must notice his discomfort because he reaches for the remote and pauses the film. "You alright?"

Ian knows that Mickey had to force himself to ask that. That he's scared of asking and upsetting Ian, but he's scared of not asking and things getting worse and he'd end up blaming himself if that happened. It makes Ian feel terrible, that Mickey can't even ask him the simplest of questions without fear of messing up.

"Headache," he grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. It probably looks like he's pouting like a small child but he can't find it in himself to really care.

He senses Mickey frown. "Want me to turn it off?"

Ian just shakes his head.

Mickey hesitates, glancing between Ian and the screen, before unpausing the film. He turns the volume down, which Ian expects is supposed to help and he's grateful, but the movement on the screen is still messing with his head so he has to close his eyes, resting his head against the back of the sofa.

It's soothing, and it lasts a while. He's beginning to think that, perhaps, today might not be so bad. Maybe he was overreacting and it's just a headache.

That's when Yev starts crying.

And not just crying. He starts fucking _screaming_ , to the point where Ian wants to rip his own hair out. His eyes snap open and he leans forward, elbows on knees and head in hands. Mickey might be talking to him but Ian doesn't know what he's saying, if he's saying anything, he just knows that he can feel Mickey's hands on his shoulders and he shrugs him off because it's just making everything seem so much more intense.

Svetlana takes Yev for a walk to hopefully calm him down but it doesn't make Ian feel any better. He's so close to snapping, he can feel it, and he's trying to push it down still, trying to keep it at bay but he _can't_.

" _Ian_ ," Mickey near-shouts. Ian lifts his head, the fogginess in his brain fading slightly. Mickey is standing in front of him, eyebrows raised. "You want a beer?"

Ian just nods. Even if it won't stop the headache or fix his numb hands, it'll make it so he doesn't have to feel as much. Mickey is back a second later and he's handing him an opened bottle and then sitting back down. Ian sets his beer on the table next to Mickey's and sits back but he keeps his eyes open because Yev will be back at some point and he's not going to be any better so something's going to break Ian at some point or another.

That doesn't stop him focusing all of his effort on stopping his hands from shaking.

It's completely pointless, though. He reaches forward to grab his beer, but apparently Mickey decides to do that at exactly the same time because, the next thing Ian knows, their hands are brushing against each other as they clasp their beer bottles. Mickey's hand fucking _burns_ and Ian rips his hand away, knocking over his bottle in the process.

"Ian-"

" _Shit_ ," Ian curses, lifting the bottle up with wobbly hands.

He forces himself to get up from the sofa and head for the kitchen but it feels like his legs are made of lead, so heavy and hard to move and he's ready to crumble to the ground. He moves towards the kitchen roll to get some to clean up the beer but his hands just flatten out on the counter and he's frozen and he _can't breathe_.

Fuck, he thought he'd at least manage one damn trip to the kitchen. Apparently not. His chest is heaving and his eyes are squeezed shut because he has a feeling if he opens them, he's going to faint or something because his head is spinning and he's close to toppling over as it is. His knuckles are turning white with the strain of trying to keep himself sane, to maybe _somehow_ stop this from going any further.

"Ian?"

Mickey's voice sounds miles away, like he's in another fucking universe and Ian tries, he tries to hold on to his voice but he can't. He can't do anything except try to breathe but his lungs are burning and he doesn't think he can.

There's a sudden weight between his shoulder blades and the rational part of Ian's brain reminds himself that it's Mickey's hand, it's just _Mickey_ but he flinches away so hard that he trips over his ankle and the next thing he knows he's on the ground. The impact of his knees against tiles knocks the breath out of him and that's when he knows he's fucked.

It's like he's trapped in a vortex. Everything is spinning but it's so dark and he can't see a way out, can't find a way to make any of this stop and it's terrifying. His heart is pounding and his lungs are aching and he can't control the shivers overtaking his body.

"Ian, man, what the fuck happened?"

Ian is trying to remind himself that Mickey is right there but it does nothing to calm him because Mickey sounds so far away and he can't open his eyes to prove that Mickey is right next to him and that's just making everything even more difficult to handle. He needs to breathe but the harder he tries, the harder it gets and he's going to pass out soon, he knows he is.

"Ian, look at me." God, Mickey's voice sounds so gentle and perfect and Ian tries to reach out to him but his hand clasps around thin air and he sobs at that. He's putting all of his trust in Mickey because he can't focus on anything except the burning in his chest and the pounding in his head.

He tries to do as Mickey asks. Mickey has dealt with Ian's panic attacks before, numerous times, and admittedly it _has_ been a while since his last one, but Mickey knows how to handle them better than anyone, how to help Ian through them and after they're over. He's the only person Ian feels safe around when he's like this.

Ian peeks an eye open but it's too bright, everything is too bright and it's too much so he curls up, knees to his chest and his head leaning on his arms. "I can't," he sobs, voice hoarse and pathetic and wrong and everything he hates. "Th-The _lights_ \- Mick-"

Mickey curses and Ian doesn't know how close Mickey was to him but there's a lack of warmth next to him all of a sudden and all he can think is that Mickey's gone, Mickey has left and he's not coming back and his fingers tangle in his hair and tug as hard as they can because Mickey is _gone_ -

"Hey, Ian, stop that," Mickey tells him and he's suddenly right next to Ian. Ian can feel him, can feel Mickey's shadow looming over him, trying to protect him from anything and everything. His hands freeze, stop tugging at Mickey's words. "The lights are off, okay? Open your eyes, baby."

That nickname does bad enough things to Ian's heart on a good day, but now he feels like he's about to explode. His eyes open ever-so-slightly and he realises that the room is only dimly lit and his head doesn't hurt as much and he lifts his gaze to meet Mickey's eyes. " _Mick_ ," he all but cries and he doesn't know how he's even managing to speak when he's sure he isn't breathing and he feels like he's going to die.

"I know," Mickey whispers and his voice is soothing, somehow, even as Ian watches him frown and his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "I'm gonna touch you now, okay?"

Ian nods but that just makes his head spin but then Mickey has his hands cupping Ian's jaw and it doesn't burn, not anymore and Ian instinctively holds his breath which just makes everything worse because then he's coughing and wheezing and Mickey is securing his grip, saying, "Calm down, Ian. It's okay, just focus."

Ian brings his shaking hands to surround Mickey's, holding on as tightly as he can. He locks eyes with Mickey, who's smiling reassuringly even though Ian can see the fear behind it. "Copy me. You ready?" Ian nods slowly, and Mickey takes a deep breath in, carefully and calmly for Ian to mirror.

Ian does his best. It hurts to try to breathe and that shouldn't make sense but it makes his lungs feel like they're filled with knives and he has to stop because it hurts too much and he's coughing again as much as he tries to stop it. Mickey just holds his face, strokes his thumbs across Ian's cheekbones and wipes the tears still streaming silently down Ian's cheeks. "It's okay," Mickey promises. "Just try again; it's gonna be fine."

Mickey inhales again and Ian follows him, shoulders lifting with the effort. Together, they hold their breath for a couple of seconds and it's taking everything in Ian to hold it and not cough but he manages, and then Mickey exhales and he exhales, too. And _fuck_ , breathing has never felt so good. Ian feels a thousand tonnes lighter at just the one successful breath and Mickey is grinning, too, eyes shining with pride.

"That's perfect," Mickey praises. They fall into silence as Ian focuses on not messing up, because one awkward breath is going to reverse this entire process and he cannot go through that again.

It's a few minutes later that Ian lets his hands drop from Mickey's and Mickey takes his hands from Ian's jaw. Everything feels cold with Mickey's touch gone and Ian has never felt like so much of a failure. He hasn't had a panic attack in almost a year and there was no trigger, nothing important that could've caused this today. He's just too pathetic to be able to handle a simple domestic life.

"Ian?" Mickey questions. Ian turns his head away, refusing to look at him. He hates Mickey, of all people, seeing him like this. Being bipolar makes him weak enough, but having a panic attack for no apparent reason? It makes Ian hate himself more than ever. " _Hey_."

Mickey's hand curls around the nape of Ian's neck as he pulls Ian's head into his chest and Ian tries to hold it in, but he can't help but let out a broken, pathetic sob as he claws at Mickey's t-shirt. "I'm sorry," he whimpers, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks.

"Don't be stupid," Mickey says. He rubs the back of Ian's neck soothingly, but Ian can't stop crying. It's stupid, he knows, because Mickey wouldn't ever get angry or annoyed at him for a panic attack and he _knows_ that but he can't help but feel weak and dumb and like he's just failing. "This isn't your fault, alright? So quit it with your fuckin' apologies."

Mickey's voice is anything but harsh, despite the word choice seeming it. So Ian shuts up as best he can, curling up against Mickey's chest instead and revelling in the warmth of his boyfriend's arms around him, the security and the safety that it brings. Mickey's nose nuzzles into the top of Ian's head and Ian tunes in on his soft breathing, slow and steady and he focuses on that instead of the tears burning his eyes and the sobs wracking his chest. He focuses on calming down because everything is fine, _they're_ fine and it's going to be fine.

It isn't long before Ian finds that he's almost drifting off to sleep and he inhales sharply, pulling away from Mickey a little. Mickey watches him, staying silent though his eyes are narrowed slightly, as if he's waiting to see what Ian is about to do. "I'm gonna go for a nap, I think," Ian mumbles. He's avoiding Mickey's gaze, because it's hard to look Mickey in the eye and not break. He just needs to sleep this all off.

Ian stumbles as he stands but Mickey's hands on his waist keep him steady. He goes to start heading for their bedroom but Mickey's fingers suddenly clasp around Ian's wrist and he pulls him back. Before Ian can even react, Mickey is pulling him closer and pressing his lips to Ian's in the most gentle kiss possible. It lasts only a second and Mickey pulls away before Ian even has the chance to comprehend anything, whispering, "I love you, you idiot."

Ian can't form words. He wants to, he really does because his heart is pounding - in a good way this time - and he wants to tell Mickey everything, tell him how much he loves him over and over but his throat is too tight so he can only hope that the way he's staring at Mickey is enough.

It must be because Mickey smiles slightly and gently shoves Ian's shoulder in the direction of their bedroom. "Go on then, tough guy. Go get your beauty sleep."

Ian barely manages a small huff of laughter as he trudges into the bedroom. He keeps on his t-shirt and his sweatpants and just nestles into his side of the bed, bundling the quilt around him to try to get rid of the blanket of cold air surrounding him. He shivers and he knows it's because of the lack of body heat next to him but he just needs to sleep and it'll be fine.

Except now that he's trying to sleep, he's wide awake and he balls his hands into fists in frustration, groaning into the pillow. This makes no sense, why does nothing ever make any sense? He's exhausted, he always is when he has a panic attack but he knows that if he tries, he won't be able to fall asleep.

Ian's breath hitches in his throat as the quilt is lifted and an arm wraps around his waist, pulling him back and against the warmth of a chest. "The fuck are you doing?" he mumbles, attempting to sound annoyed but he couldn't be fonder and he has to turn his face into the pillow to hide his small smile.

Mickey curls himself around Ian, laughing slightly into the back of his neck. "I know you don't like falling asleep on your own, 'specially after a panic attack," he whispers, adjusting himself and getting comfortable. He rests his hand on Ian's chest, right above where he can feel his heartbeat, and lets himself relax. "You just don't wanna ask."

Ian's cheeks heat up but he doesn't say anything. Mickey's presence is already having an effect on him, making his eyes feel droopy and heavy and it's only a couple of minutes before Ian feels himself drifting off into the darkness.


End file.
